


not in the ways that mattered (this is the only thing that matters)

by ThirtySixSaveFiles



Category: The Grandmaster of Demonic Cultivation, 魔道祖师 - 墨香铜臭 | Módào Zǔshī - Mòxiāng Tóngxiù
Genre: Angst, M/M, Nightless City aftermath
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-16
Updated: 2019-06-16
Packaged: 2020-05-13 05:29:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19244779
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirtySixSaveFiles/pseuds/ThirtySixSaveFiles
Summary: Lan Wangji has a narrow window of time, here in this dirty cave in Yiling. He will face whatever comes after; but here, now, he needs Wei Wuxian to look at him.





	not in the ways that mattered (this is the only thing that matters)

**Author's Note:**

> This was written for a kiss meme prompt from an Anon on tumblr: "On a falling tear," Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian. Originally posted to tumblr [here](https://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com/post/185556772404/wangxian-for-the-kissing-prompt-please-number); now cleaned up with minor edits for AO3.

“Wei Ying.”

Wei Wuxian stares into the distance. His hair is matted with blood and other, less wholesome things; Lan Wangji has done his best to clean his face, but Wei Wuxian’s hairline is still streaked with red and black. He sits, staring dully over Lan Wangji’s shoulder as Lan Wangji kneels in front of him, one of his hands captured in both of Lan Wangji’s.

“Wei Ying.” No response. Not even the twitch of an eyelid. Just the same dull, vacant stare he’s been wearing since Lan Wangji pulled him away from the carnage at the Nightless City.

Lan Wangji pushes down the voice that tells him he was _too late, too slow, not enough, never enough,_ and focuses on passing spiritual energy to Wei Wuxian. He steadies himself against the ground. He’s never been this exhausted, this raw, this _scared_ even during the Sunshot Campaign, even back in the cave of the Xuanwu of Slaughter; but however drained he feels Wei Wuxian is even emptier, a bleeding black hole that swallows what little energy Lan Wangji has to give him.

But he has to do something. He has to _try._

“Wei Ying,” he whispers. Wei Wuxian’s fingers twitch against his, the barest movement against his palm but Lan Wangji’s heart leaps into his throat. Wei Wuxian’s lips move, and Lan Wangji leans forward.

“...get...lost…” Lan Wangji swallows his heart back down and leans back, redoubling the flow of spiritual energy. It’s the same thing he’s said since Lan Wangji brought him to this cave in Yiling, the _only_ thing he’s said. Lan Wangji isn’t sure Wei Wuxian is even talking to him, or if he’s still seeing the endless sea of cultivators turned against him in the ruins of the Nightless City.

It doesn’t matter. Lan Wangji is here, and he’s not leaving.

“It wasn’t your fault,” he tries. “Your sister. Jin Zixuan.” He knows the first is true; he’s less sure about the second, but it doesn’t matter now, nothing matters except that Wei Wuxian _look_ at him, that Wei Wuxian _see_ him. The Stygian Tiger seal had set the Nightless City ablaze with Wei Wuxian’s grief and rage; Lan Wangji refuses to entertain the possibility that it had burned through Wei Wuxian as well, leaving only the shell of this man that Lan Wangji loves.

Lan Wangji’s throat tightens up and he swallows, blinking furiously. “Come back to us,” he murmurs, watching intently for any sign of reaction. “The people of Yiling are waiting. _Your_ people. A-Yuan is waiting. Come back to us. Come back to -”

The breath hitches in Wei Wuxian’s chest and Lan Wangji swallows the rest of it, fear and hope warring within his breast as Wei Wuxian blinks slowly. A single tear spills down his cheek and Lan Wangji’s hands clench around Wei Wuxian’s before he can stop them. Lan Wangji breathes deeply and leans in, fighting back the tightness behind his own eyes. 

His lips brush over Wei Wuxian’s cheek, tracing the tear’s path. He can taste blood and dirt and salt. “Don’t stay alone in the darkness,” Lan Wangji breathes. “You are needed. You are loved. Come back to us. Come back to _me_.”

He waits one long heartbeat, and then another, but there’s no response. Lan Wangji closes his eyes and leans back on his heels, swallowing the exhaustion and the disappointment and the fear. He has to be strong for Wei Wuxian. He has no other alternative.

“Come back to me,” he repeats softly. Maybe if he keeps saying it, Wei Wuxian will learn to listen.

He sits in the darkness behind his eyelids, murmuring encouragement, until he loses count of the minutes. He marks time instead by the slow beat of the heart opposite him and the gradual warming of Wei Wuxian’s skin under his hands. He had been cold, so cold when Lan Wangji had first settled him here on this stony outcropping. He’s warmer now. That has to be a good sign.

He only opens his eyes when a disapproving cough sounds behind him, when the gradual rustling of what he had taken to be wind through the trees resolves into the shuffle of feet on the dusty ground.

Lan Wangji feels a numb sort of calmness settle over him. He had hoped they would have more time, but it seems it was not to be.

“Lan Wangji.” Lan Qiren’s voice is as cold as Lan Wangji has ever heard it. “Explain yourself.”

“Uncle.” Lan Wangji studies Wei Wuxian’s face for some sign of alertness or alarm at the intrusion. Nothing. “There is nothing to explain.”

“Wangji.” His brother’s voice rings out, calm and gentle and oh so sure that he knows what’s best. Lan Wangji had thought that he knew too, once. Now all he knows is the thready pulse underneath his fingers.

“Brother.” Lan Wangji bows his head. “Leave us.” _Please._

“We’re here to take you home, Wangji,” Lan Xichen says, and the Cloud Recesses may have been rebuilt but Lan Wangji has never been so sure that _home_ is dark hair falling into grey eyes, the thin wrist clasped underneath his palm.

Lan Xichen doesn’t understand that. Lan Xichen has _never_ understood that. Not in the ways that mattered.

Lan Wangji pushes himself up, listening to the shuffling of feet behind him. He shifts Wei Wuxian onto his side, lifting his legs so he’s curled as comfortably as he can be on the hard stone shelf. He passes a hand over Wei Wuxian’s filthy, matted hair and Wei Wuxian’s eyes fall mercifully closed. Lan Wangji squeezes his hand one last time and lets go.

Another tear rolls down Wei Wuxian’s cheek, and Lan Wangji’s fingers itch to wipe it away, to chase it with his lips until Wei Wuxian responds, until he wakes up. But that is not for these people to see; that is not for them to witness.

He curls his fingers around Bichen’s hilt instead.

Lan Wangji turns, and draws his sword.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find me at [ThirtySixSaveFiles](https://thirtysixsavefiles.tumblr.com/) on Tumblr or [@36SaveFiles](https://twitter.com/36SaveFiles) on Twitter!


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